


The Care of a Consort

by plotweaver



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Consort Bilbo Baggins, Everybody Lives, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 15:18:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6381640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plotweaver/pseuds/plotweaver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After hours of standing on his feet, Bilbo is a bit sore. Thorin, the over-reactor he is, won't stand for this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Care of a Consort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Finduilas123](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finduilas123/gifts).



> This is basically my response to the very solitary throne we're shown in the movies. 
> 
> This work is also a gift to the wonderful Finduilas123, whose comments on my previous stories were so heartfelt and amazing that I felt I must reciprocate in some way. :-)
> 
> As always, Kidhuzurâl is Khuzdul for "golden one."

"The dwarves of Belegost also bring your kingdom sapphires from Ered Luin, Your Highness." 

Thorin nodded at the brilliant blue stones before him. Thankfully the gesture was polite enough to signal his approval, and the leader of the envoy from Belegost signaled to his kin that the sapphires should be taken to the treasure chambers. The Belegost dwarves bowed before turning and exiting the throne room. Thorin fought back a grimace. While beautiful, Thorin had no desire to smile at the stones brought to him from distant dwarven kingdoms. He had given a good amount of the hoard to the Men of Dale and to his cousin in the Iron Hills and his sister in the Blue Mountains. The sight of gold upon gold held no more joy for him, only hazy memories of pressing Bilbo onto the ramparts. 

Thorin would forever be ashamed of his actions under the gold sickness. On Ravenhill, when he believed himself to be dying, he did not wish for victory or health or even assurances that his kingdom would endure. He wanted only Bilbo and Bilbo's forgiveness. 

He did not deserve the hobbit standing to the right of his throne now. 

He glanced at Bilbo. Dressed in Durin blue, Thorin could not have anticipated how well the trappings of the consort of Erebor would befit his burglar. Thorin may have lost his taste for jewels in excess, but he could not resist giving Bilbo small tokens. Exquisite jade beads for the marriage braids in his hobbit's hair. A ring of gold when he learned of hobbit marriage traditions. A simple crown for royal ceremonies. Thorin crafted each piece himself, loving the ache in his muscles from the work in the forges. It gave him no small pleasure to see Bilbo adorned with his crafts. 

Bilbo not only looked the part of royal consort, but he performed it exceptionally as well. The post-battle negotiations between the men, elves, and dwarves had been tense to say the least. When Thorin forgot himself, when he raised his voice or became too stubborn, Bilbo needed only to gently place his hand on Thorin's arm to soothe him back into a mind of diplomacy. Bilbo, with his curious and kindhearted nature, forged much-needed diplomatic relationships with the other races. 

The ambassador from Belegost shifted forward, about to speak again. Thorin took no notice, however, because Bilbo brought his hand up to the small of his back. It was a small gesture, not noticeable to those around him. Bilbo pressed his knuckles into the muscle and winced ever so slightly.They had been holding court in the throne room for several hours, and the pride of Thorin's ancestors prevented them from building any other seat near the king's throne.

Thorin stood abruptly. The ambassador immediately clamped his mouth shut. 

"My apologies, Ambassador," Thorin said. "But I'm afraid I have an urgent matter that is currently demanding my attention." He held out his right hand, and Bilbo immediately stepped forward to take it. Thorin glanced over. Bilbo was looking at him with eyebrows raised, but he did not open his mouth to question this sudden change in behavior. Thorin lightly squeezed his consort's hand.

They left the throne room with all the stately purpose of a ruler and his beloved, but once the corner was rounded and none but the sentries remained to see them in the corridor, Thorin's calm demeanor gave way to urgency. He swiftly lifted the hobbit into his arms like a blushing bride, although Bilbo was anything but.

"Thorin Oakenshield! Put me down!" His small fists beat against Thorin's chest. "This is hardly dignified. What do you mean to do with me?"

Thorin would've smiled at his hobbit if he couldn't feel how tense his back was while he was in his arms. But Bilbo's muscles were hard against Thorin's arms, and they rolled in a peculiar way as Bilbo squirmed. Bilbo was undoubtedly very sore from standing for several hours at a time while Thorin received guests and news of his fledgling kingdom, and that was unacceptable. After he regained his senses in the midst of the Battle of the Five Armies, Thorin swore that Bilbo would never feel pain at his hand again. 

"I mean to tend to my husband," Thorin answered. 

"Thorin," Bilbo said. "You left an important meeting. We need to be there."

"This is more important."

"Honestly, Thorin, you're being ridiculous. Belegost is an important delegation. We need to show-"

"No," Thorin said. He stopped walking and looked down at Bilbo. Bilbo must have heard something different in his voice, because he ceased his floundering. "The dwarves of Belegost can wait. I will not receive gifts when the One truly important to me is in pain."

Bilbo made to protest once again, but did not speak. He seemed to ponder Thorin's words for a moment. Hearing no denial of his husband's soreness spurred Thorin into continuing to their chambers. 

"Honestly, Thorin," Bilbo said, realization spreading across his face. "It is just a backache."

"Caused by my lengthy audience with the delegation," Thorin said. They had arrived at the door to their chambers. Thorin always looked on it fondly. Very shortly after Bilbo's acceptance of his proposal, Thorin had the door commissioned by the finest wood craftsmen in Erebor. A green, circular door, a near exact replica of the door to Bag End. The door which Thorin stepped through to meet his One. 

Once over the threshold, Thorin kicked the door shut behind them. He laid Bilbo on their bed. Bilbo immediately moved to sit up, but found Thorin quickly astride him. Thorin, a time-made expert at the fastenings of all Bilbo's attire, swiftly removed Bilbo's vest and shirt before gently pressing the hobbit back into the mattress.

"Down, Kidhuzurâl," Thorin said. "Did you not promise in our wedding vows to allow me to care for you for the rest of our lives, be it in this world or the next?"

"How should I know?" Bilbo said. "The vows were in khuzdul."

Thorin growled a little at that. 

"You knew what those vows meant. Do you not recall the many nights you spent in this room while I taught them to you?"

Bilbo looked up at him with an exasperated expression, as if Thorin were missing something obvious. Then, the corners of Bilbo's mouth tugged upward. He was teasing Thorin.

Thorin shook his head and apologized.

"It has been a long day, ghivashel."

"I know," Bilbo said.

"And I would end today by taking care of my consort, if he would let me."

While speaking, Thorin had begun to run his fingertips down Bilbo's torso - teasing his nipples, combing through the sparse hair on his chest, slowing over the sensitive skin just below his belly - making Bilbo shiver.

"He would," Bilbo said, and Thorin barely kept the rumble of satisfaction from escaping his throat. His hobbit may play coy, but with the right words and the right touch, Thorin could always melt away any stubbornness Bilbo might have had. Thorin removed himself from the bed long enough to tug the pulley that would signal the king's readiness to bathe to the serving dwarfs. 

Mere minutes later, Thorin and Bilbo stood in front of a steaming bath. Thorin requested it be drawn with lavender, and the heady scent now filled the air as Thorin removed Bilbo's trousers and small clothes. 

"I am quite capable of undressing myself," Bilbo said, even as he obediently moved each leg at Thorin's nudging. "And bathing myself, too."

"You forget that I have need of a bath as well," Thorin said, stripping his clothes without the care and patience he had shown with Bilbo's garments. He stepped into the tub and sat, savoring the heat of the water as it surrounded him. Once he had found a comfortable position, he held out a hand to help Bilbo into the bath. Thorin tucked Bilbo into the "V" of his own legs and gently pulled the hobbit against his chest. 

In the middle of his broken, but mending, kingdom, Thorin could always find perfection in Bilbo's touch. He let them be still in this moment. He savored the damp warmth of Bilbo's back against him, the hot tangle of their legs under the water. 

Once he had blocked all other noise in his mind save for Bilbo's deep breaths, Thorin reached for the cloth hanging over the edge of the tub, dipped it in the water, and began washing his husband. He started on the shoulders, running the cloth over Bilbo's soft skin. He felt no small satisfaction when the tense muscles loosened under his touch. His attention then moved to Bilbo's arms, and he savored the sight of the water beading on pale skin after his gentle scrubbing.

The smallest of sighs passed Bilbo's lips, and Thorin could not help the answering rumble deep in his chest. They continued the bath this way, trading noises of contentment as Thorin washed the tension from Bilbo's body.

When he moved to wash Bilbo's legs, Thorin noticed the change in Bilbo's breath. It fell deep, regular. Ever so gently, he hooked his finger under Bilbo's chin and turned his head. Bilbo was fast asleep. Not wanting the bath to grow cold around them, Thorin carefully stood, keeping his hands on Bilbo to keep him from falling backwards. Once he had stepped out of the tub, Thorin lifted Bilbo out of the water as well and cradled him to his chest. 

In three easy strides, Thorin crossed the room to a small vanity, where drying cloths and Bilbo's dressing gown lay folded neatly atop one another. Bilbo protested wordlessly as Thorin set him on the small chair in front of the vanity.

"Only for a moment, Kidhuzurâl," Thorin said. "Just to dry. Then you can lie back once more." 

Bilbo made a small noise of consternation, eyes still closed, but he allowed Thorin to dry him and wrap him in his dressing gown. Thorin gathered him in his arms once more for the few steps to their bed. Bilbo sighed with contentment the moment Thorin laid him down. The dwarf king could not help the smile blooming on his face. He hastily dried himself before joining Bilbo in bed.

He placed a hand over Bilbo's heart and buried his nose in Bilbo's soft hair. It was then that Thorin felt the last bit of tension from the day leave Bilbo. His hobbit seemed to melt into the sheets, to melt into him. 

"I will craft you a throne next," Thorin whispered into Bilbo's hair. "One to sit next to mine. By my beard, Bilbo, you will never have to endure such discomfort as my consort. It shall be inlaid with gold, to shine along with your beautiful curls." Thorin inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of lavender that had clung to Bilbo's skin and hair from the bath. Bilbo swatted at him, muttering something about nonsensical dwarves.

Thorin let his One rest then, resolving to begin work on the throne in the morning. 

_Or maybe the work could begin in the afternoon,_ Thorin thought, _after I've tended to my husband's needs some more._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this, and I hope it all flows. It took a few sittings to write it. 
> 
> Please comment! It takes only two seconds, but it keeps me happy for so much longer.
> 
> You can always find me on tumblr as plotweaver. Don't be shy! I'd love to talk about these two dorks.


End file.
